The Unfortunate Souls Collection

by Stacey Rourke

  “If that’s meant to be a joke, it’s not the least bit funny.” Striding forward, Persephone positioned herself behind the settee. Glancing down, her vision tunneled. On the redhead’s lap was some sort of writing device that her fingers frantically clicked away at. Everything written on the screen was playing out in real time, allowing them to read every thought, act, or word spoken as it happened. “What sort of trickery is this?”

  “It’s no trick.” Sterling steadied himself with a hand to the back of the settee. His fingertips brushed a rogue lock of auburn hair, not that the busy writer was even remotely aware of the contact. Working as if under a spell, she punched out the unfolding scene as quick as her fingers would allow. “I have never been able to understand it. But, she sees all. Knows all. And, can even rewrite our history if the mood strikes her.”

  “That’s absolutely ludicrous! No one is capable of… “ Even as Persephone spoke, her gaze shifted to that ominous glowing screen that announced her words before she could utter them. Face reddening with fury, her hands curled into white-knuckled fists at her sides. “She has no idea who she is dealing with! I am a goddess! Mortals bow before me! This mortal must long for death if she dares manipulate me.”

  Lips pressed in a thin line, Alice nodded along as she skimmed the screen. “That’s exactly what she wrote you’d say.”

  “What power does this sorcerous possess?” Watching the redhead take a sip from a clear, plastic cup, Persephone jabbed her thumb in its direction. “Is that it? Is some sort of magical elixir to blame?”

  Swallowing hard, Sterling managed a throaty rasp, “If memory serves, it’s rum. So… yes, that very well could be the source of her powers.”

  “This can’t be right. It can’t be real. How could such a maddening place exist?” Fingers curling into claws, Persephone scratched at the sides of her face as if hoping to dig out any and all memories of the nightmarish scape. “Why would the mirror send us here? What knowledge could we hope to gain?”

  Understanding the feeling of being lost in an overwhelming realm, Sterling moved to catch her only to have his attention diverted by the redhead. After closing one document, she opened another with his name typed at the top in bold letters. Feet rooted where he stood, he jerked his head in Alice’s direction. “Help her. Calm her down.”

  “Can I slap her?” Alice inquired with wide-eyed innocence. “My kneejerk reaction is to slap her.”

  “Do what you have to.” Truth be told, Sterling wasn’t listening. His gaze was transfixed on those fingers clicking over the keys in a message that seemed meant for him.

  Nottingham and a noble bow,

  A wooden boy with his special nose.

  Tortured spirits that writhe and reek,

  A lost slipper a prince must seek.

  This journey leads down the rabbit hole,

  In an epic quest to save one soul.

  A lesson to learn in every place,

  But for the real truth ye must brace.

  Be wary, dear friend,

  Heed this warning or meet your end:

  Venture too far…

  And lose who ye are.

  Shaking himself from the reverie of those foreboding words, Sterling found his younger sister and the Queen of the Underworld engaged in a rather underwhelming slap fight.

  “Stop trying to hit me, you blonde twit! Haven’t you been asleep for nearly a decade? Shouldn’t that make you more pleasant, you malicious beast?”

  “This is in no way malicious,” Alice stated in between her continued efforts to wallop the goddess. “I just genuinely don’t like you.”

  Both of the women were capable with the caliber of power that could make the world tremble. Yet there they were open-palmed swatting at each other. Sterling’s mouth opened in hopes of injecting some sort of logic to calm the scene, yet the only thoughts that came to mind were jumbled, erratic ones.

  Wetting his lips, a pull at his heart pulled his stare back to the redhead.

  She shut the glowing device, her head turning ever-so-slightly in his direction. The small smile that tugged at the corners of her lips caused a wave of warmth to radiate through his core. She knew he was there and that her message had been received.

  That rare and bewildering creature—who knew all of his flaws and weakness—somehow believed in him.

  For most people, that wouldn’t have been enough. Those accustomed to encouragement and love would easily dismiss the musings of a stranger. But a soul deprived of companionship clings to it where they can. The pieces of the puzzle fell into place, perfectly aligning with the guidance Alastor had offered.

  Filled with a confidence foreign to him, Sterling puffed his narrow chest and flicked a spiky lock of hair from his eyes. “Enough! We’re wasting time. I know where we have to go, and what we have to do. But that knowledge could be fleeting. Information has a tendency to get lost in my mind, often replaced by random ponderings like why I keep winding up in trees or how a raven is like a writing desk. You know what I mean?”

  Their half-hearted assaults stilled, morphing into matching looks of confusion. “Not in the slightest,” they chorused.

  Placing one hand on the back of the settee, a wide smile spread across Sterling’s peculiar features. “Understanding will do no good. Not in the broader scheme of things. For the journey ahead, you need only throw yourself in and trust you’ll land on your feet.”

  “So, what’s the first step?” Persephone ventured.

  “Of what?” Face blank of emotion, Sterling’s head took on a curious tilt.

  Brow creased with confusion, the goddess tried a second approach. “To this great adventure of yours?”

  Bringing his hands together in a sharp clap, Sterling bounced on the balls of his feet. “We’re going on an adventure? How exciting! You know, every great adventure begins with a first step.”

  Persephone glanced from Alice to Sterling, and back again. “We’re going to die, aren’t we?”

  “Most likely,” Alice confirmed with a nod.

  Chapter Six

  “Vanessa, I need you to listen to me. There is a way out of this. You remember the odd little being with the glowing smile from your time in the dungeon? His name is Sterling and—”

  ”I have to give Triton and his men points for creativity. I wonder which of the guards whispered that subtle little nuance of the story for my brother to manipulate?” Gliding across the cavern with her tentacles rolling beneath her, the sea witch paused to scratch each of her pets under their chin. “Whoever it was, matters not. I will not fall victim to such trickery.”

  “It’s not a trick, Princess.” Despite being little more than a shadow of his former self, Alastor’s voice rose to an agitated shout. “If you would just let me explain—”

  “My dear, sweet child, that won’t be happening. I don’t care whose face you’re wearing. I won’t be made a fool of. Not again.” Opening a barnacle-covered cabinet she recovered from the wreckage of a ship, she allowed herself the sweet torment of gazing into the face of her long-lost love one last time. “I may find a use for you someday. But in the meantime, you can stay here, amongst my other relics and treasures.”

  “Vanessa, please. I beg of you—”

  Lips curling into a sinister smile, she set the shard on a shelf behind her tonics and potions. “Oh, do beg. It gives me such pleasure. Cry and wail if the mood suits you.”

  Her sentiment was punctuated by the cupboard door clapping shut, plunging Alastor into a prison of darkness.

  A ripple of reality.

  A flutter of time.

  A crackle of palpable magic.

  That’s all it took to lurch them into a new world. One with towering trees, leaves crunching under foot, and thunderous hoofbeats closing in. Instantly on high alert, Sterling’s muscles locked tight. His head snapped in one direction then the other as a rapid plan formed. They had landed next to a lean-to built of raw timbers. The pasture stretching out in front of it made it clear it was home to
livestock of some sort. In a rickety crate beside the rough structure, were haphazardly folded burlap blankets.

  Leading by example, Sterling snatched one from the pile and flung it around his shoulders. “Cover up your clothes! Now! Give them no reason to question if you belong here. Most importantly, let them speak first. If you don’t understand the language, be silent!”

  Cloaking herself beneath the rough weave of her chosen moss green fabric, Persephone was almost impressed by the odd little imp’s sudden commanding disposition. She may even have complimented him on it, had voices not filtered back from a minuscule cabin nestled in between a pair of lush Blue Spruces.

  “Robin, they’ve come early! We’re not yet ready. What do we do?” The voice was female, and bubbling panic.

  “Marion, stay behind me. Whatever happens, I will do what I must to keep you safe.” A man with broad shoulders and well-muscled arms ducked out from the modest dwelling. Squinting into the afternoon sun, he tucked a dagger into the leather belt cinched around his waist.

  A horde of armor-clad soldiers crested a hill in the distance, barreling straight for them with their steads in a full gallop.

  “Any morsels of information you can give us about this land, brother?” Alice asked, bumping Sterling’s elbow with hers. She had picked the wheat-colored blanket from the pile, which somehow perfectly matched the hue of her hair.

  Teeth grinding in concentration, Sterling’s index finger traced over the puffed skin of one of his scars. “Not in the least. But I think I know why. See that oak tree with the oddly twisted trunk?” He pointed in the direction of the massive tree. “If memory serves—and it seldom does—I believe I materialized on that branch there, and hid amongst the cover of leaves until the coast was clear and I could poof my way out again.”

  Lips sinking into a downward C, Alice’s eyebrows raised. “So… why don’t we do that? No one has seen us yet. We could vanish undetected.”

  “You there!” the man they now knew as Robin called out.

  “Never mind,” Alice leaned Sterling’s way to tag on.

  Adjusting his position to assume a protective stance between the horseback horde and them, Robin shouted to them over his shoulder, “I know not who you are, yet the fact that you have draped yourself in my horse blankets speaks of people who have fallen on hard times. Trust that I mean you no harm, but offer this bit of advice. Hide yourselves. The men coming are brutal and show no mercy.”

  Taking the words to heart, they pulled back, sinking farther into the trees yet still allowing themselves a line of sight.

  As the horde neared, Robin dutifully bowed his head. The galloping mass slowed to a stop, a smug smile visible beneath the helmet of the decorated soldier leading the charge. He had a full beard and a scar that shaved off the very tip of his nose. “Robin of Locksley, fallen from grace and living out your days as a peasant. If only your dearly departed family could see you now.”

  Unwilling to be baited, Robin met his stare head on. “Sir Guy of Gisborne, your visit is earlier than anticipated.”

  Sir Guy glared down the bridge of his misshapen nose at the lowly being before him. “Yes, well, I wanted to make short of my time in this neck of Sherwood Forest. It is so very hard to shake off the stench of paupers. Speaking of my duties, we are here to carry out the commands of the Sheriff of Nottingham, who was appointed by King Richard himself. As the title of king is deemed by God, it only seems right for you to bow before me.” Leaning back in his saddle, he spotted Marion hunkered within the cottage. “Now, now, don’t be shy. Come and join your husband as he prostrates himself before me.”

  Laughter tittered through the band of king’s men.

  Sunlight gleamed off Marion’s onyx waves of hair as she crept from the cottage. Swallowing hard, she took a knee alongside her husband.

  “All of you.” Raising his voice to a boom that echoed off the trees, Sir Guy turned his attentions toward the trio hunkering alongside the lean-to.

  Seizing Alice’s wrist, Sterling dropped to his knee and tugged his sister down beside him.

  Persephone, however, folded her arms over her chest. “I don’t like that one.”

  Her insolence went unnoticed… for now.

  With both hands on his saddle horn, Sir Guy adjusted himself in his leather seat. “The taxes you owe, Locksley? What of those?”

  “As I stated, you’ve come early.” Despite his knee being mashed into the dirt, Robin held himself with poise and nobility. “If you take the coins for taxes now, we won’t have enough silver to buy food and grain to get us through the winter.”

  Head tilting with mild interest, Sir Guy’s eyes narrowed. “You think your king cares of such things? You pay what is owed, or the safety of your family can no longer be guaranteed. Archers, give this peasant the much-needed reminder of what happens to those who do not obey the king’s command.”

  Two men behind him drew their bows, holding them at the ready as fellow soldiers lit the arrows with torches that hissed and crackled in warning of certain destruction.

  Both hands raised, Robin gestured for mercy. “Wait, please! I’ll give you what we have. I ask only that you spare our home.”

  The men hesitated, waiting for Sir Guy’s nod before lowering their blazing bows.

  Taking his time in raising one hand to his men, Sir Guy allowed Robin a moment to dig his paltry coin purse from his belt.

  “He’s human.” Persephone spat the word as if it soured on her tongue. “Why would they make an offering to him, or bend the knee before him?”

  This time, her presence did not go unnoticed.

  “You there,” Sir Guy called out, his lecherous gaze traveling the length of Persephone. “Are you a lady of nobility? I can only assume as such, as you have not knelt in the presence of those deserving.”

  Persephone braved a step forward, only to be hindered by Sterling’s hand closing around her wrist. “Please, I beg of you. Nothing good will come of this.”

  “He will learn who I am, and he will quake with fear.” Persephone shook of his grip and faced her accuser.

  “Yeah…” Sterling sucked air through his teeth. “I don’t think he will.”

  Bristling beneath her horse-blanket cowl, Persephone held her head high. “I am Persephone, Goddess of the Summerland, and Queen of the Underworld. I bow to no man. Especially a puny mortal that steals from the starving.”

  An audible gasp could be heard from the onlooking soldiers.

  Face reddening with fury over losing face in front of his men, Sir Guy’s thin lips twisted into a snarl. “Really, Queen of the Underworld? Well, Your Highness, you must be new to this realm. Here, the people adhere to the rulings of the Sheriff of Nottingham... or they die.”

  “I would like to see you try, you impotent lump of pig shit.” Hands balled into fists at her sides, Persephone took a threatening step forward.

  Sterling made a noise behind her—something between a choked sob and a whimper.

  A smile as deadly as the edge of a straight blade sliced across Sir Guy’s features. “I never said it would happen to you.”

  With a snap of his fingers the order was given, and the marksmen let their flaming arrows fly.

  The arrows sank into the front wall of the cottage. Their hungry flames wasted no time in devouring the dry timbers and stretching skyward. Robin and Marion jumped to their feet, sprinting to save their engulfed home. Sterling and Alice were hot on their heels, looking for blankets or laundry to grab to squelch the flames.

  Whether Persephone would have offered aid or not, Sherwood Forest would never know. Before she could manage a step, Sir Guy drew his bow from his quiver and let one arrow fly. It caught the fabric of Persephone’s skirt at her hip, and drove her straight to the ground. Mud splattered beneath her knee, landing on her dress in fat droplets. White hot prickles radiated up her leg in a foreign ache she could only assume was pain.

  “I don’t know where you’re from. Nor do I care.” Sir Guy flung his bow back o
ver his shoulder and stowed it away. “Here, you will learn your place.”

  He kept his hateful glare locked on Persephone, daring her to rise to her feet in challenge. And she would have. Without a second’s hesitation. If the tip of the arrow hadn’t caught a root beneath the soil and momentarily trapped her there.

  Raising a hand once more, Guy claimed the attention of his men. “Consider this a warning. Today, a home was lost. Next time, the cost for insolence will be a life.”

  All it took was a jerk of his head, and the horde galloped off with Robin’s savings—and Persephone’s dignity—in tow.

  With a final tug and rip of fabric, the goddess was freed. Rising to her feet, she planted herself in a wide-legged stance. Mumbling to herself, daggers of hate stabbed from her glower. “I’m going to do things to that man that would make Hades cringe.”

  Chapter Seven

  “Persephone! We need help putting out the fire!” Shrugging off his horse blanket, Sterling beat it against the flames.

  Ignoring his plea, the seething goddess strode down the dirt path the horde disappeared down with a determined gait. Expression carved with stone-cold conviction, she snapped her fingers beside her head with the intention of magically creating a magnificent stallion.

  Nothing happened.

  No divine sparks.

  No swirl of the impossible.

  Nada.

  Shaking her hand—as if to recharge it—she tried again.

  Still nothing.

  But an old, gray mare did mosey over the knoll chomping on a mouthful of grass.

  Filling her lungs to capacity, she huffed an annoyed exhale. “I guess you’ll have to do.”

  Persephone’s magic couldn’t manifest a horse, but it could saddle one. Hopping the fence, she slid her foot into the newly formed stir-up and hoisted herself up. Tugging the reins to yank the mare’s head around, Persephone paused when a pudgy mule came sauntering along the fence line.